prologue
Willa
The Muddy Creek fairgrounds look exactly the same as they did six years ago when I swore I’d never come back. Same weathered wooden fences, same smell of hay and horse sweat carried on the Wyoming wind, same buzz of anticipation rippling through the crowd gathering for tonight’s event.
I should feel nostalgic. Instead, my stomach churns, the latte from earlier threatening to come back up.
“You sure about this, Sweets?” Josie asks from the driver’s seat. Her coffee-stained apron is still tied around her waist from her morning shift at The Human Bean. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”
“I’m fine. It’s fine.”
“No, it’s utter shit.”
“I’m okay.” The lie tastes bitter. I’ve been telling myself this all morning, ever since I found out who’s going to be my boss.
This internship with the APBRA is the opportunity of a lifetime—a direct path to becoming a licensed livestock vet specializing in rodeo stock. It’s one of the only programs in the country that takes Omegas. It’s everything I’ve worked toward since leaving Wyoming for veterinary school.
Josie parks near the competitor entrance and kills the engine, buying me a little time. Through the windshield, I can see the APBRA banners flapping in the wind, the familiar red and gold logo still making my heart race.
“Hey, are we hugging or fucking shit up?”
I laugh. Josie’s been asking me the same thing since we were teens. Though I don’t think she could throw a punch if her life depended on it, I love her for it.
“Really, I’m fine.”
“Willa James, you are many things, but ‘fine’ isn’t one of them right now.” She turns in her seat to study me with those sharp eyes that have always seen through my bullshit. “Look at me.”
I stare at the face of the only person who has ever believed in me.
“You’re a fucking beast. You take no shit, and you don’t let small men stand in your way.” She looks at me expectantly. “Well?”
I swallow. The hard part about trauma is that it can come back to fuck with you whenever it feels like it. You may think you have it together, that the past is the past, but then it can swallow you whole while you’re still trying to figure out what the fuck is happening.
“I’m a beast.”
“You’re a fucking beast!” she repeats, giving an encouraging wave of her hand.
“I’m a fucking beast!” I say louder, and I repeat it until my insides settle.
“He doesn’t get to take this away from you,” she whispers as she leans in to envelop me in her small but strong arms, her sweet coconut, cherry, and clove scent wrapping around me.
No, he fucking doesn’t.
Even if the pain and fear sit heavy in my chest like a stone, I get to decide what to do with the weight. Not Mark Felton.
“I know…” I let out a deep sigh, a million thoughts buzzing around my brain.
Josie’s expression softens. She knows about my father’s reaction and plans, knows why I left and never came back. “Want me to come in with you? I can pretend to be your emotional support human.”
“No need to pretend that—you are.” I laugh, but the offer makes my throat tight. She’s one of the reasons I took the offer and moved back to Muddy Creek. “Thanks, but I need to do this. If I can’t, I may as well pack my shit up and head back to California.”
“You sure? Because I can be extremely intimidating. I’ve perfected my death glare since you left.”
She levels me with a look that is so cute my heart warms. She’s never been scary, not even close to intimidating, but I keep that part to myself.
“Save it for the coffee jerks. I’ve got this.”
I don’t, but I will. With a wave, I jump out of the car and head deeper into the fairgrounds.
